


Overdoing It

by fairhearing



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bodily Fluids, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn, Public Sex, Running, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairhearing/pseuds/fairhearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "Sulu and Chekov go for a run together on board the ship, on a virtual course. Chekov is laughing because he can run circles around Sulu! Sulu, however, gets his revenge, and Chekov loves it."</p><p>Warnings for: Explicit-ass sex (in all meanings of the phrase). Including: dirty talk, sex in a public place, raunchy sexual epithets, mushy terms of endearment, copious bodily fluids, multiple prostate orgasms, physical overexertion, misuse of gym privileges, uke Chekov, and cuddling. You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overdoing It

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah but seriously though you guys, this is nothing but twenty kilograms of pure-grade porn. Please read with the lizard-brain only.

* * *

Chekov knew how the race would turn out before it even began, but that was the fun part. Beyond the other fun part, which was glancing over his shoulder to see Sulu huffing out breathless laughs at Chekov from a half-lap behind. Or maybe the funnest part, which was the simple fact of having Sulu literally chase him.  
  
For so long, it had felt to Chekov like _he_ was the one chasing after Sulu, trailing him everywhere like an obnoxious puppy: to the mess, to the rec rooms, back to his quarters, even following him from the turbolift onto the bridge. He knew now that Sulu had apparently felt the same way, which didn't make any sense whatsoever, no matter how many times Chekov pestered him to explain further when the subject came up ("it's different when you're the older one" was all he got, usually right before Sulu flipped him and pinned him and nipped kisses down his neck to change Chekov's would-be interrogation to bubbling laughter).  
  
But it still felt so good to feel Sulu behind him, that presence over his left shoulder as always; to hear his footfalls on the gravelly ground of the hologym's track, to slow down and glance back or even turn around and run backward for a few paces, to bask in the sight of Hikaru Sulu in his silver-striped black Academy soccer shorts, his bare chest golden and abs shining with sweat as he breathed hard, smirking, eyes dark and fixed on Chekov's as he broke into a sprint to try to close the distance between them. All the toned muscles in Sulu's body working for one purpose -- to try to catch him.  
  
Really, Chekov couldn't be blamed for breaking into an exultant laugh and speeding up again each time -- who wouldn't try to stretch out the experience for as long as possible?  
  
That was probably why he didn't notice that the footsteps behind him had gone quiet until a few minutes had passed.  
  
Chekov eased into a bit of a trot as he glanced over his shoulder -- it had taken him a few months of crashing into walls on this very track to figure out that it was a bad idea to run at full bore without looking where he was going -- and blinked. Where Sulu had been a few lengths behind him on the virtual track, there was now nothing but the steadily-passing holographic scenery of a Russian mountain vista.  
  
"Oh ho!" He put his hands on his hips, still jogging sideways along the course. "Surrendering already?"  
  
He got no answer.  
  
"Not that I blame you," he continued through his hard breaths, squinting and craning his neck, as though to see Sulu hiding somewhere behind the fixed background of digital Ural mountain peaks. "But I had thought the honor of America would not be so easily abandoned!"  
  
The only sound was the soft _swish_ of virtual wind and the rather unrealistic tweeting of virtual birds.  
  
At last Chekov slowed, then stopped.  
  
"Karushka?" he said, panting.  
  
The passing landscape had paused with him, but there was still no sign of Sulu.  
  
"Hikaru?" called Chekov, with the beginnings of worry.  
  
He had just opened his mouth, to order the computer to end the simulation, when something tackled him from behind.  
  
"Wah!" he was all he managed to squeak out before he hit the ground.  
  
Chekov was pinned before he knew what had hit him, but the actual moment of impact never happened: somehow he'd been cradled in such a way that it didn't hurt, didn't even knock the wind out of him. He was soon breathless anyway, though, with laughter.  
  
"Ninja powers are cheating!" he cried, giggling and struggling weakly in Sulu's powerful grip. He couldn't even squirm properly.  
  
"All's fair," was Sulu's only answer, deep and throaty at Chekov's neck.  
  
"That's only -- ah, Karu -- that's only love and war."  
  
"And this is both." Sulu sounded distracted. He had Chekov flat on his back, wrists over his head, legs pinned between Sulu's own, and was holding him down with just one hand while he breathed down his body, still panting a little. He wasn't kissing him, or even nuzzling him, just apparently enjoying the feeling of Chekov open and helpless under him.  
  
He wasn't the only one. Chekov could never really stop himself from getting hard when he had Sulu's entire weight on him, holding him down, and that wasn't even when Sulu was like this, half-naked and glistening with sweat, the warm damp skin of his chest pressed against the thin cloth of Chekov's t-shirt.  
  
"What will you do with me, then." Even talking was hard, in the best way, the muscles of his stomach pressing up hard against Sulu's. "Now that you've caught me."  
  
Sulu drew back and looked at him, trailing his dark eyes slowly down Chekov's body in that way that made his mouth go dry.  
  
When Sulu reached back with his free hand, rummaging around somewhere, Chekov suddenly remembered that those black silver-striped soccer shorts were the only pair Sulu owned with one key feature: pockets. And sure enough, when Sulu brought his hand back, he was holding a small, familiar vial of transparent oil.  
  
"Computer," he said, staring into Chekov's eyes. "Lock doors to gymnasium seven, authorization Sulu Delta Delta Two."  
  


* * *

Chekov was so aching and ready that just the preparation -- being pulled roughly onto his hands and knees, Sulu's cock rubbing hot against his thigh as his thick fingers worked Chekov open -- made him come all over the track not just once, but twice. He was so weak afterwards that he just sagged to the ground, his arms cradled against his chest and ass pointed in the air, moaning out little incoherent breaths as Sulu kept fucking him slowly with his fingers, making his cock push out a few last drops.

"Not done yet," Sulu whispered roughly, and he flipped Chekov over in one strong, smooth move.

Chekov let his hands fall weakly beside his head, panting, trying to focus on Sulu through half-lidded eyes. Sulu was completely naked, leaning over Chekov; tan and built and breathing hard and still glistening with sweat, looking so fucking good that Chekov made a halfhearted attempt to sit up and get a better look. But Sulu pushed him back down easily, one hand broad on his breastbone.

"Shh, I know you want it," he whispered, lubing his cock with his other hand.

Chekov let out a little desperate whimper. He was naked, too, except for his socks and running shoes, and when Sulu grasped the backs of his knees and pushed his legs back, spreading him wide, he moaned, feeling totally surrendered, so ready for cock that Sulu hadn't even bothered to undress him all the way.

"You gonna swallow it all down for me?" said Sulu softly, lining up. "Every inch?"

"Nngh, yes, yes --" but then that cockhead was already nudging against his hole, thick and fat, pushing in. Chekov cried out, tried to buck and arch, the way he usually did when he needed to be fucked so bad he could hardly stand it, but Sulu had him pinned so completely that he could only lie there and take it, the slow delicious burn.

" _Yeah_ ," sighed Sulu when he bottomed out, balls deep. "Fuck yeah, baby."

"Karu," gasped Chekov. He was barely able to breathe, feeling impaled up to his throat, his hands loosely spread next to his ears and Sulu's hands closed completely around his thighs. Sulu was gazing down at him, his dark eyes heavy-lidded, that cock so big inside him.

"Shh, baby, I know what you need," said Sulu. He pulled out almost all the way, letting Chekov whimper at the slow, hot drag; then shoved back in, hard -- and Chekov threw his head back with a cry.

Sulu didn't take it slow or gentle after that, just started pounding Chekov with everything he had, all the muscles in his arms and abs and thighs straining with it. Chekov just moaned and gasped in little bursts, his legs still pinned against his chest, his knees rubbing against his nipples and his sneakers bobbing in the air with every thrust.

He was so boneless and weak he didn't know if he could come again, but then Sulu spread his legs apart even wider and changed his short, pounding pace to something deeper -- every thrust now starting from the fat head of his cock and ending at the root, his balls slapping hard against Chekov's ass. He leaned forward, to trap Chekov's dick in the hot friction between their stomachs, rubbing it with his abs.

"Show me, baby, come on," said Sulu huskily, noticing the desperate pitch Chekov's panting had taken. He swiveled his hips, like he was stirring Chekov up. "Come on, show me what a sweet little slut you are --"

And that was all it took for Chekov to come. He was so exhausted the only sound that escaped him as he arched into the air was a breathy, near-silent shudder, his come spilling out in weak little drops.

"Fuck yeah," said Sulu, growling now, speeding up again. "So fucking good, Pavel, yeah --"

"Ka, ka," gasped Chekov, bouncing with Sulu's thrusts, so breathless and exhausted he couldn't even manage more than a syllable of Sulu's name.

"Here it comes, baby." Sulu was leaning over him, a drop of sweat falling from his hair to Chekov's chest with the force of his short snapping thrusts. "Drink it all down, every drop --"

"Nnnn, yes, God," Chekov moaned in Russian, straining, and he cried out weakly when he felt Sulu's cock twitch inside him, so close.

"Ah, yeah," growled Sulu, "drink it down, every drop, every fucking drop --"

Sulu slammed in, once, twice, three times; and Chekov could feel it, the second when the hot rubbing friction changed instantly to the smooth silky rush of Sulu's come.

Chekov closed his eyes, gasping and whimpering as Sulu ground his orgasm into Chekov's ass, pinning him to the floor with it, grunting deep. The feeling was almost enough to make Chekov come again, but he was so weak that his cock just leaked feebly at the sensation, smearing more stickiness onto Sulu's panting stomach. And when, a few moments later, Sulu slowly pulled out, come spilled from Chekov's ass, too, a thick warm trickle that pooled on the floor between his spread asscheeks.

Sulu finally released Chekov's legs -- they sank slowly to the floor, aching pleasantly from the run and what happened after -- and pulled him close.

"Mm, baby," whispered Sulu. He was kissing him breathily all over the way he always did after sex, but Chekov couldn't respond, almost catatonic at this point. He was only half-aware of it when Sulu lifted him up and into his arms, holding him close and kissing his forehead as he carried him into the showers.

The hot water and Sulu's soft soapy hands holding him up as he washed them both only made things worse, and Chekov was falling asleep on Sulu's shoulder when he suddenly realized something.

"Karushka," he said with a yawn, pawing at Sulu as he rinsed Chekov's hair. "We need to clean the track."

"Nuh uh, it's got a self-refreshing feature," said Sulu, kissing his wet temple. "I checked beforehand."

"Oh, this is all part of your devious sex plan?"

"Yep."

Sulu shut off the water with one hand, still holding Chekov up with the other. He kept holding him as he dried them both off, and while normally Chekov would have put up token resistance to this kind of treatment, the feeling of Sulu massaging his back through the thick cloth of the towel had made his mind very fuzzy.

"Sleepy?" Sulu whispered when they were back in the locker room, Sulu pulling his uniform onto him and fluffing his hair dry under the heater.

"Only because of your cheating," Chekov mumbled, nuzzling Sulu and feeling like he could fall asleep right there in the warm circle of his arms. "Such methods drain the spirit of an upright and, eh, moral..." he yawned, "moralizer... Hikaru, eventually you are going to have to let me walk, we cannot get back to our room this way."

"But you're so tired, baby, I think you overdid it."

" _I_ overdid it!" Chekov tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak huff against Sulu's neck. Sulu's neck... so nice and warm, smelled so good. Chekov rested his head there and closed his eyes again.

"We could take the back hallways," Sulu was saying, petting his hair gently, and after a minute Chekov sighed.

"Well," he mumbled, "you did win" -- and Sulu laughed before lifting him into his arms.

***

Later, Chekov would be disappointed that he'd been too asleep to enjoy the momentous occasion of Sulu carrying him to their room, but not too disappointed -- he'd probably have another chance soon enough. The two of them exercised regularly, after all.


End file.
